B. M. Bower - B. M. Bower - Historical Novels, Westerns & Old West Sagas (Illustrated Edition)

B. M. Bower

Flying U, The Lonesome Trail, The Range Dwellers, The Long Shadow, The Gringos, Starr of the Desert…

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2017 OK Publishing

ISBN 978-80-272-2055-7

Flying U Series Flying U Series Table of Contents

Chip of the Flying U Chip of the Flying U Table of Contents Chapter I. The Old Man’s Sister Chapter II. Over the “Hog’s Back” Chapter III. Silver Chapter IV. An Ideal Picture Chapter V. In Silver’s Stall Chapter VI. The Hum of Preparation Chapter VII. Love and a Stomach Pump Chapter VIII. Prescriptions Chapter IX. Before the Round-up Chapter X. What Whizzer Did Chapter XI. Good Intentions Chapter XII. “The Last Stand” Chapter XIII. Art Critics Chapter XIV. Convalescence Chapter XV. The Spoils of Victory Chapter XVI. Weary Advises Chapter XVII. When a Maiden Wills Chapter XVIII. Dr. Cecil Granthum Chapter XIX. Love Finds Its Hour

The Flying U Ranch The Flying U Ranch Table of Contents Chapter I. The Coming of a Native Son Chapter II. “When Greek Meets Greek” Chapter III. Bad News Chapter IV. Some Hopes Chapter V. Sheep Chapter VI. What Happened to Andy Chapter VII. Truth Crushed to Earth, etc Chapter VIII. The Dot Outfit Chapter IX. More Sheep Chapter X. The Happy Family Herd Sheep Chapter XI. Weary Unburdens Chapter XII. Two of a Kind Chapter XIII. The Happy Family Learn Something Chapter XIV. Happy Jack Chapter XV. Oleson Chapter XVI. The End of the Dots Chapter XVII. Good News

The Flying U's Last Stand

The Phantom Herd

The Heritage of the Sioux

The Happy Family

Ananias Green

Blink

Miss Martin's Mission

Happy Jack, Wild Man

A Tamer of Wild Ones

Andy, the Liar

"Wolf! Wolf!"

Fool's Gold

Lords of the Pots and Pans

The Lonesome Trail and Other Stories

The Lonesome Trail

First Aid to Cupid

When the Cook Fell Ill

The Lamb

The Spirit of the Range

The Reveler

The Unheavenly Twins

Other Novels

The Range Dwellers

The Lure of the Dim Trails

Her Prairie Knight

Rowdy of the "Cross L"

The Long Shadow

Good Indian

Lonesome Land

The Gringos

The Uphill Climb

The Ranch at the Wolverine

Jean of the Lazy 'A'

The Lookout Man

Starr of the Desert

Cabin Fever

Skyrider

The Thunder Bird

Rim O' the World

The Quirt (Sawtooth Ranch)

Cow Country

Casey Ryan

The Trail of the White Mule

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Chapter I. The Old Man’s Sister

Chapter II. Over the “Hog’s Back”

Chapter III. Silver

Chapter IV. An Ideal Picture

Chapter V. In Silver’s Stall

Chapter VI. The Hum of Preparation

Chapter VII. Love and a Stomach Pump

Chapter VIII. Prescriptions

Chapter IX. Before the Round-up

Chapter X. What Whizzer Did

Chapter XI. Good Intentions

Chapter XII. “The Last Stand”

Chapter XIII. Art Critics

Chapter XIV. Convalescence

Chapter XV. The Spoils of Victory

Chapter XVI. Weary Advises

Chapter XVII. When a Maiden Wills

Chapter XVIII. Dr. Cecil Granthum

Chapter XIX. Love Finds Its Hour

Table of Contents

The weekly mail had just arrived at the Flying U ranch. Shorty, who had made the trip to Dry Lake on horseback that afternoon, tossed the bundle to the “Old Man” and was halfway to the stable when he was called back peremptorily.

“Shorty! O-h-h, Shorty! Hi!”

Shorty kicked his steaming horse in the ribs and swung round in the path, bringing up before the porch with a jerk.

“Where’s this letter been?” demanded the Old Man, with some excitement. James G. Whitmore, cattleman, would have been greatly surprised had he known that his cowboys were in the habit of calling him the Old Man behind his back. James G. Whitmore did not consider himself old, though he was constrained to admit, after several hours in the saddle, that rheumatism had searched him out—because of his fourteen years of roughing it, he said. Also, there was a place on the crown of his head where the hair was thin, and growing thinner every day of his life, though he did not realize it. The thin spot showed now as he stood in the path, waving a square envelope aloft before Shorty, who regarded it with supreme indifference.

Not so Shorty’s horse. He rolled his eyes till the whites showed, snorted and backed away from the fluttering, white object.

“Doggone it, where’s this been?” reiterated James G., accusingly.

“How the devil do I know?” retorted Shorty, forcing his horse nearer. “In the office, most likely. I got it with the rest to-day.”

“It’s two weeks old,” stormed the Old Man. “I never knew it to fail—if a letter says anybody’s coming, or you’re to hurry up and go somewhere to meet somebody, that letter’s the one that monkeys around and comes when the last dog’s hung. A letter asking yuh if yuh don’t want to get rich in ten days sellin’ books, or something, ‘ll hike along out here in no time. Doggone it!”

“You got a hurry-up order to go somewhere?” queried Shorty, mildly sympathetic.

“Worse than that,” groaned James G. “My sister’s coming out to spend the summer—t’-morrow. And no cook but Patsy—and she can’t eat in the mess house—and the house like a junk shop!”

“It looks like you was up against it, all right,” grinned Shorty. Shorty was a sort of foreman, and was allowed much freedom of speech.

“Somebody’s got to meet her—you have Chip catch up the creams so he can go. And send some of the boys up here to help me hoe out a little. Dell ain’t used to roughing it; she’s just out of a medical school—got her diploma, she was telling me in the last letter before this. She’ll be finding microbes by the million in this old shack. You tell Patsy I’ll be late to supper—and tell him to brace up and cook something ladies like—cake and stuff. Patsy’ll know. I’d give a dollar to get that little runt in the office—”

But Shorty, having heard all that it was important to know, was clattering down the long slope again to the stable. It was supper time, and Shorty was hungry. Also, there was news to tell, and he was curious to see how the boys would take it. He was just turning loose the horse when supper was called. He hurried back up the hill to the mess house, performed hasty ablutions in the tin wash basin on the bench beside the door, scrubbed his face dry on the roller towel, and took his place at the long table within.

“Any mail for me?” Jack Bates looked up from emptying the third spoon of sugar into his coffee.

“Naw—she didn’t write this time, Jack.” Shorty reached a long arm for the “Mulligan stew.”

“How’s the dance coming on?” asked Cal Emmett.

“I guess it’s a go, all right. They’ve got them coons engaged to play. The hotel’s fixing for a big crowd, if the weather holds like this. Chip, Old Man wants you to catch up the creams, after supper; you’ve got to meet the train to-morrow.”

“Which train?” demanded Chip, looking up. “Is old Dunk coming?”